


E602: Clas Myddrin (Part Two)

by arthurreturns



Series: Merlin S6: Arthur Returns [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Merlin S6 Project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthurreturns/pseuds/arthurreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has returned to Merlin, though how and why he does not know. They quest, together this time, for Excalibur and find more than they expected in the modern age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scene I

**Author's Note:**

> This work is more unedited than E601, due to the fact that no comic will be produced from it. Please enjoy in any case.

When he is in Avalon, he spends a great deal of time at the side of a certain woman. He never recognizes her, though he feels as if he should, but he can tell her hair is long and dark and she wears a gown of deep violet. But, he can never make out the features of her face – like looking at the reflection of a face in water, it constantly ripples and wavers.

But she seems familiar and she is kind, so he stays at her side and looks out over a land that seems to change every time he blinks.

He spends a good amount of time as a bird as well, however. Thoughts are different when he is a bird, everything seems foggy and distant, but occasionally he will circle over something that seems familiar, around and around and around as he wonders. Sometimes it is a castle or a town, a forest or a set of large stones, and sometimes, actually more often than not, it is a man, who seems to grow from young to old and back again, over and over. And there was a long period of time when he could not see the man, though he felt drawn to a certain expanse of rock and tree in the forest. He circled over from time to time, but there was never any movement, so he always returned to the lake sooner rather than later.

Sometimes he will find himself sitting on the throne, and the woman will be sitting at his side. And, at first, he looked at her, dragging his eyes from the strange Court before them and she said, “We are Queen and King here at times.” And he looked down at his bare ring finger and she laughed, adding, “Not that way.”

But his fingers felt bare now that he looked down at his hand, and there was a weight missing from his hip, and from time to time his chest would ache badly until she put her hand on him and the pain eased.

There came a time when was flying over the land, swooping low over a river, and he noticed a group tip their hats to him as he passed by. “That be King Arthur, as a chough,” one of them said as he circled by again.

And, yes, he was King Arthur – he was Arthur Pendragon, once-called King of Camelot, once-called Knight of the Round Table, once-called husband to Guinevere. He circled over a road, focusing on a figure traveling along the path.

And friend to Merlin.

Merlin was old again beneath him, had been for the past several times Arthur had flown over, and Arthur thought of crying out until he realized he knew no way to change back to human form – and there was a feeling deep down that this was not the time to do so.

So he returned to the lake instead and found the woman and announced to her eagerly, “I’ve seen Merlin.”

She seemed to smile – a flash of white in the ripples – and said quietly, “Quite the sight from above, isn’t he?” She grew quiet when he tried to ask more and he took a seat on the grass beside her, to wait.

And then came the time when the woman looked him full in the eye as he sat upon her arm and she whispered, “Go now, he has waited long enough.” With a thrust of her arm, he launched up into the air with several strong wing beats.

He flew up quickly, towards the shining blue above them. In the span of a breath, he burst through the surface of the water, droplets sliding down off his feathers as he beat his wings again rapidly.

The dusk light reflected off the water beneath him, lighting his way for a moment as he coasted over the water, caught an updraft across the lake, and swooped up into the air.

It was easy to find Merlin, trudging through the edge of a wooded area in the middle of the city, tugged there as he was by the feeling inside Arthur always followed to find the other man.

And a breeze caught him just as he coasted down towards Merlin, ruining how he planned his descent to land on Merlin’s shoulder. He caught himself quickly and landed on a nearby rock instead.

Merlin turned to look at him, muttering under his breath about making it this far only to get taken out by a crow. Arthur tilted his head to look at him, and he watched curiously as Merlin’s hand squeezed tight around something at his neck.

Nothing happened for a breathless moment and he started beating his wings again in hope that Merlin would do whatever it was he was supposed to and then, well then it happened.

And when the change was complete and Arthur was wearing strange trousers and Merlin was blinking at him tearfully – he just managed to hold back the ‘don’t cry like a big baby, Merlin’ because, well, he was almost relieved to the point of tears to see Merlin too, almost – Arthur gave Merlin’s shoulder a firm pat then crossed his arms over his chest. Because it was chilly in amongst the trees.

The small smile fell from Merlin’s face and he narrowed his eyes at Arthur suspiciously again. He lips were moving and by leaning in close Arthur caught him muttering, “ – after all this time, now, like this? When the land is as quiet as it is?” And so Arthur cleared his throat and Merlin blinked at him again. He spoke up suddenly and said, “Not that it isn’t, you know, but why are you back?”

He had expected that, had expected it and thought to prepare, but he honestly had no idea. All he remembered was the feeling like itching under his skin and the way the Lady had looked at him – as if this was to be a farewell – and how he had needed to find Merlin, right away, and appear at his side. Arthur shrugged slightly and replied, “I thought this sort of stuff was your area of expertise.”

Merlin shot him a dirty look – and Arthur briefly wondered if Merlin had always been giving him those sorts of looks behind his back before – and stepped towards the far bushes. “Look,” he ordered, gesturing through the gap in the branches, where Arthur could peer through and see a street, rather crowded with people walking as it were. “See, Albion is fine.”

Arthur glanced over the groups of people – rushing about in the strange clothes he had seen from above for a time, moving in what seemed to be some sort of pattern as they hurried across wide, wide roads and passed by those strange horseless carriages. “There sure are a lot of them just wandering around. Why aren’t they working in the field or something?” Leaning back, he glanced at Merlin, lowering his voice as he asked, “Am I to find them all work?” Which sounded daunting even to his ears, but there had been that one winter after a poor harvest he, and Merlin, and a few of the knights, had walked through several villages on foot and in plain clothing, gathering up those without work and bringing them back to Camelot to at least spend their days training in the fields with the foot soldiers – so they could at least receive a meal at the end of each day.

Merlin glanced between him and the people for a moment and then replied slowly, “I really don’t think that’s it.” He was giving Arthur his ‘you are so detached from the real world’ look, and Arthur glanced back out to see that, well, there were quite a bit more people than he had first noticed. But surely there was something for them all to be doing.

“Well,” Arthur said with a shrug, “Looks like we’re both in the dark then. But, personally, I’d rather get out of the dark and into a shirt, so if you would, Merlin.”

Shaking his head, Merlin pulled off his coat and tossed it at Arthur, who sniffed it with a grimace but quickly pulled it on when Merlin raised a finger towards him.

Arthur shucked the coat on up over his shoulders and crossed his arms back over his chest when he encountered the same metal fastening that had been on the pants. With enough time, he could fumble it closed again, but he would rather avoid looking like a fool in front of Merlin again. He looked up to find the man glancing at him out of the side of his eyes, looking surprised every time he saw him, as if he still truly did not believe Arthur was there. He was sure he would feel the same, if he had not spend the past few centuries spying on  – checking on, more like – him from above. “Well?” he said, jutting his chin towards the road.

Merlin’s forehead scrunched up as he replied slowly, “Well, if you’re really here to stay –” another questioning glance at Arthur, who nodded firmly, “ – I guess we should get you some clothes.” He took a step towards the bushes, then glanced back over his shoulder to see if Arthur was following.

Scooping up the bag Merlin had left on the ground in one hand and picking up the little rock with the other, Arthur mused as he stepped forward, “That’s probably the first idea of yours I’ve ever agreed with.” He tucked the rock, running his thumb over it briefly to feel how smoothly it was worn, into the front pocket of the bag and then tilted it a bit in Merlin’s direction for him to take whenever he noticed.

They stepped out onto a firm path, Merlin pulling the bag from Arthur’s arms so he could hold the fabric closed over his chest again, and Arthur added, “Though, really, I’d like to have Excalibur back.” Because it was his, it was his and might be the only thing left in the world that he could call his own anymore, because Merlin was changed, and he could no longer tell if he could truly call him his man anymore. And besides, he had spent quite some time down under the water in that place clenching his hand at his hip as if there was something there he should be gripping onto.

Merlin blinked at him, repeated, “Excalibur?”

“My sword,” he answers, mimicking swinging it with one hand, “Surely you remember. It was in a stone and I pulled it out.”

“Only with my help,” Merlin commented, blinking again with some color returning to his face.

Arthur laughs and replied, “Yes, Merlin, with your little cheers from the side as I lifted the sword out.” And more than that – but surely Merlin would remember that.

“I forgot you were such a prat.”

He continued over the mutter, elbowing Merlin less roughly in the side than he once would have, “I spent a lot of time thinking about having that sword back. I’ve never held a blade that fit more perfectly in my hand.”

Merlin glanced away and Arthur peered at him as the loud, fast carriages of this time – something he had once been shocked at watching from overhead – dashed by at the far side of the path. “You do still have it, don’t you?”

The other man kept his eyes fixed on the ground and, with one of his hands coming up, he seemed to be counting something under his breath. Eventually, he replied, “I know where it is.”

“You’d better.”

“I think.” Raising his head before Arthur could speak, Merlin added quickly, “We’ll find it. Clothes, then Excalibur.”

“You can’t just,” Arthur waved his hands before himself in what he imagined resembled something mystic, “Magic it up?” Because, honestly, that story about the sword being put in the stone had never been something Arthur really believed, and after thinking about it for quite some time, Arthur had decided it made far more sense that Merlin had made the sword for him in the first place.

Merlin laughed – the first real laugh Arthur had heard from him – and replied, “If I could ‘magic it up,’ I would have magiced you up long ago.” Arthur frowned at the drop in Merlin’s tone and opened his mouth to speak, but Merlin gestured at a building and said, “Here.”

Arthur peered in the window, looking at the inside of the shop, and immediately shook his head. “Merlin,” he said slowly, turning to address the man, “I need something I can fight comfortably in.” He gestured behind himself with a flung-out arm, “These are the same as this,” a shake of his leg, “And I know I’d never go into battle with this on.” Everything was tight, and flimsy, and Arthur remembered the last time Merlin had stuffed him into clothes like this and he had ended up trying to fight in them. Fabric had gone places it should never be when a man is holding a sword.

Several of the passersby were now staring at Arthur, slowing in their walks, and he realized his coat had fallen open again. Merlin glanced around as well and said mockingly, “Alright, Sir Prat, come this way then.”

They made their way quickly forward then, Arthur nodding and smiling at those they passed and Merlin occasionally putting his arm up to halt their progress as carriages passed by before them.

Finally, Merlin grabbed Arthur’s arm and tugged him down into a dark space between two buildings. Arthur pulled back on his arm, but was unable to free it, almost surprised at how strong Merlin was. Almost, because after all, he had never been blind and Merlin had been beside him all those years when he tossed his armor into his arms. “Where is this?” he asked as they approached a black door set into one of the walls.

“This,” Merlin replied, glancing back over his shoulder with something almost mischievous in his eyes, and it was good to see that again, even with the dark circles that ringed beneath them, “Is where we can get your clothes.”


	2. Scene II

It was surprisingly bright and clean inside the chop, compare to the outside conditions, and Arthur glanced around at the neatly arranged items before spotting the clothing on a far wall. “Come on then, Merlin,” he urged, stepping towards the back of the shop.

There were only a few other customers present, and Arthur gave those whose eyes caught his a firm nod as he moved past tables and stands holding products. He smiled when he reached the wall and glanced back over his shoulder at Merlin, who lagged quite a few steps behind. “See,” he declared, “These are exactly what I was looking for.”

He turned back to look over the sets of leather pants, looking for something supple enough for his purposes.

Merlin made a quiet choking noise behind him and then came up to Arthur’s side. Thrusting a broad belt under Arthur’s nose, he asked, “Need one of these? Pre-fashioned for perfection,” he teased as he ran his fingers over the variety of holes for fitting.

“Haha,” Arthur replied dryly, shoving the thing out from under his nose and taking a pair of pants down. He held them out, inspecting the length critically before asking, “These?”

Merlin came back and peered over his shoulder. “I’d say,” he answered. He glanced around and then waved an arm at the next corner, “There’s a room there you can try them on in.”

With a step forward, Arthur paused when Merlin remained behind and asked, “You aren’t coming with me?”

Lips quirking in a smile, Merlin replied, “After all this time, I think you can dress yourself.”

So Arthur did, though he may have struggled with undoing the metal ties again to take off Merlin’s trousers before tugging on the new.

He slipped out with them on after performing several lunges and stretches in the little dressing room and spotted Merlin on the far side of the shop again, looking at a collection of shirts it seemed. He stepped toward him before something caught his eye. Arthur snatched it up and continued on his way.

Slapping the strands lightly on his palm as he approached, he said, “Merlin, what do you think of these?”

Merlin turned, eyes going wide at the sight of the small flogger in Arthur’s hand. Cracking it lightly in the air, Arthur commented, “I could use this to teach you your manners again.” He smirked at him, “I had plenty of practice on punishment duty for the guards.”

Shaking his head, Merlin pulled it from his hand and stuffed a pile of shirts in his arms instead. “Here, you take these and I’ll just,” he looked at the thing in his grip, “I’ll just put this back.”

He took a step away and then turned and pointed at Arthur, “And don’t pick up anything else.”

Though, Arthur did end up choosing several other pieces of clothing, including a leather vest and a thick-soled pair of boots. As they stepped up to the register, Merlin commented, “All those years laying out your clothes and I never knew you were so in to fashion.”

“Well, I certainly have better taste than you. Picking up women’s clothes all the time,” Arthur replied, to the wide-eyed glance of the teller.

 


	3. Scene III

Merlin looked at him anxiously from the middle of the room as Arthur glanced around. He offered, just to stop the man’s staring, “This is where you live?”

“Yes,” he replied, finally glancing away to gesture at the room. He headed towards an entryway on the far side and added, “This is my flat.”

Following him into another room, this one with a hard wooden floor, Arthur commented, “A far sight better than your room with Gaius, isn’t it?”

He paused where he was placing the bags of clothes on a table, then glanced back at Arthur with a smile. “I haven’t thought of that in years.” He glanced around, smile dropping, and said, “It is. Much quieter though.”

Frowning as Merlin seemed to hunch in on himself, he quickly asked, “You’ve quite a few things, don’t you? What’s that?” and pointed to the largest, shiniest object he could see through the entryway.

Merlin’s eyes went wide as his gaze followed Arthur’s finger. He stepped over quickly and herded Arthur away from the viewpoint, towards a door on the opposite wall, saying, “I’ll explain that later.” He paused as they passed what seemed to be a large chest resting against the wall like a cabinet and asked, “Did you want something to eat? We did a lot of walking.”

Shaking his head, he answered, “I’ll let you know when I do.” He pushed the door open and blinked into the dark room, quickly adding, “And this is?”

“My bedroom,” Merlin replied with a laugh, “See the bed? Not that much has changed, Arthur.” He did something with his hand to make light shine from the room’s ceiling and he stepped in past Arthur. Then he paused and looked between him and the single bed. “Oh, right, well…”

Arthur peered back out the door and said loudly, “There was a long seat out here, wasn’t there? It looked acceptable.” Forcing a grimace on his face, he turned back to Merlin and added, “I’d rather not wake up smelling like you. Besides, your bedding would probably be too soft – I need a man’s bed.” Because he could see the circles under Merlin’s eyes, and the drooping of his shoulder, and knew the man was more tired that he sounded, knew that had had looked this tired for centuries.

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, then shrugged and replied, “I do have a fold-out sofa.”

“A folding what?”

 

Arthur woke to a dark room and lay still for a moment, blinking towards the distant ceiling as if he could see it, as he tried to remember what had woken him.

There was a thud on the far wall, then a muffled shout, and Arthur leveraged himself off the creaking sofa to creep towards Merlin’s bedroom door.

He paused for a moment, crouching outside the door with his ear pressed close to the crack between door and frame. There was another shout, one that sounded distinctly like his own name, and he forced his way into the room to find Merlin bolting upright in his bed, clutching at the sheets with one hand as he squeezed his hair tight against his scalp with the other.

“Merlin?” he asked cautiously, coming to a stop at the side of the bed and reaching out towards his shoulder.

The man flinched beneath his touch, blinking up at Arthur in the faint moonlight seeping in the window with a wavering, hoarse call of his name.

His breath shuddered out when his eyes caught Arthur’s and he reached out to grip tight at Arthur’s arm. Frowning, Arthur placed a knee on the bed to lean closer and wrap his other arm around shoulders that shook beneath his touch. “Alright there?” he asked, the words sounding weak against Merlin’s quick breaths.

Merlin’s hand slid free of the sheets as he leaned his weight more fully on Arthur, and Arthur watched him slide it back and beneath his pillow. “I,” Merlin started, voice soft and wet. His hand slipped back to his lap and Arthur watched his thumb stroke over something that, he realized with a shock, had once been his.

His mother’s sigil – hidden away under Merlin’s pillow.

He leaned back, forcing Merlin upright and met his eyes in the dim light of the room. “You? Come on, Merlin, out with it. Used to be I could never get you to shut up.”

Merlin’s lips turned up in a small smile and he replied, “I woke up thinking it was all a dream.” And his thumb went round and round, worrying at the edge of that metal. “It’s happened before, dreaming of you returning and waking to find it had never been.”

Arthur clenched his free hand tight at his side, then brought it up at ruffle at Merlin’s hair. “Well, I’m here this time, here to stay. You used that rock to prove it and everything.” Nudging at his shoulder, he added, “Go on, budge over.”

He shuffled towards the wall and Arthur frowned when he lay down on sweat-damp sheets. His elbow landed on Merlin’s side as he shoved himself over onto a drier area, knocking the breath from his lungs. Merlin commented dryly into the dark between his wheezes when Arthur had settled, “I’m starting to regret wanting you back.”

And they made the bed shudder as they laughed in the dark of that room.

 


	4. Scene IV

The next morning, Merlin dragged a half-asleep Arthur out of his flat and started to lead him across the city. “Is this the way to my sword?” Arthur asked around a yawn, stretching an arm up over his head.

Merlin threw him a glance, then tugged him to a stop next to a cart on the road. He spoke with the owner for a moment, handing over something, and then came back to Arthur’s side with some breaded thing he stuffed in Arthur’s mouth.

Chewing and swallowing as best he could, Arthur studied Merlin’s back as the man pulled him along again. He was skinny – even beneath the layers of his clothing – maybe even skinnier than Arthur had ever seen him. Licking his lips, Arthur cleared his throat and then asked, “Nothing for you?”

Turning back to blink at him, Merlin shrugged slightly and replied, “Sometimes I just,” his brow furrowed slightly and he shrugged again, “don’t eat.”

Arthur felt his jaw drop slightly as the man turned away from him again. He understood if Merlin meant because he was immortal, but he still had to feel hunger.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Merlin waved a hand at the building they walked alongside. “This is a library, and an archive for historical documents.” Merlin lead Arthur up the front stairs slowly, “Someone I work with may be able to help us.”

“You work?” Arthur asked, catching the door Merlin help open and pausing for a moment. He had thought Merlin spent too much of his time wandering to settle down for a job. “But I gave you all those days off,” he attempted to say it with a smile, but somehow a frown found its way out on his face again and Merlin grabbed at his arm with a cheeky smirk instead.

Pushing him in, the man replied, “You gave me two days off and I’m saving them for when you truly annoy me.” He took a breath and then added, more quietly as they stepped into the room, “And, yes, I do work.” He brought a finger to his lips as Arthur opened his mouth and whispered, “We’re in a library. Quiet.”

Arthur blinked and then commented loudly, “I’ve never set foot in a library in my life.” At least one like this, where there were shelves after shelves of books and people spread without – besides, the library had ever been a place of quiet because of grumpy Geoffrey.

“I’m not surprised,” Merlin hissed back, tugging Arthur towards the far side of the large room, the words echoing off the vaulted ceiling. He opened a door marked with several letters that looked somewhat familiar to Arthur and gestured him in. As they started down a narrow hallway, he added, “I work here occasionally with document restoration and identification.” At Arthur’s questioning look, he amended with drawn-out words, “I fix old documents.”

Arthur gave him a sharp pat on the shoulder as he replied, “Like does call to like, doesn’t it,” emphasizing the next word with a careful tease, he finished, “Old friend?”

Merlin paused before another door and said firmly, “This man may help us, but you’d better keep quiet in there.”

“Nonsense, Merlin, I know how to behave myself,” he replied, gesturing at the door for Merlin to open.

Merlin touched the ring at his throat and threw his eyes skyward for a moment before knocking and opening the door. The man inside, bent over a table when they stepped in, perked up when he saw Merlin. “I was rather surprised to see your email,” he said, coming around the table. He went on to ask, with a glance at Arthur, “But seems this request isn’t just for you. Friend?”

“Yes, Arthur, Michael; Michael, Arthur,” he introduced, gesturing between them.

Michael offered his hand and Arthur took it after a momentary pause. “Pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Arthur replied with a smile as their hands fell.

“Foreigner, then?” the man asked, glancing between him and Merlin. When Arthur and Merlin exchanged a glance, he laughed and added, “Sorry, just heard you talking in the hall, and then now. You’ve got a bit of an accent.”

Merlin spoke up before Arthur could open his mouth and answered, “He’s from Wales.” Michael raised his eyebrow, running a look over Arthur from boots to leather-clad shoulders, and slanting his eyes at Merlin. Merlin winced, then said weakly, “Out in the country, you know.”

“Well,” Michael said with a smile at Arthur, “Today’s topic is just perfect for you then.”

He led them back over to the desk and gestured at a worn tattered sheet that rested in a tray. Pulling on a pair of gloves, he said, “When I got your message, I went and pulled up the youngest manuscript – Welsh in origin – we have on the subject of Excalibur.” He glanced up at Arthur with a smile and added, “King Arthur’s sword.”

“Yes,” Arthur replied with an equally bright smile, though he threw a look at Merlin once Michael’s eyes slipped back down.

“This was found with some interesting illustrations in the margins,” he said, gesturing with a gloved finger at the small depictions of a red and white dragon flying. “We believe the artist was depicting the common legend of the Saxons and the Britons in battle. We assume an outside source was brought in as reference throughout the writing, as it includes but does not acknowledge earlier legends.”

Merlin squinted at the dragons and remarked under his breath to Arthur, “I think that was me.”

“Hm?” Michael blinked up at him.

Swallowing, he said, “I mean, they probably brought in somebody like me. Or you.” He broke off in a small laugh and glanced at Arthur, who was shaking his head, when Michael nodded thoughtfully.

He turned his head back down to read, and Arthur whispered, “You don’t even remember what you’ve said or when you said it?”

Frowning, he whispered back, with emphasis, “I’m old, Arthur. It’s been a long time. At least I human the whole time – not a chough.”

“I was a crow!” Arthur exclaimed.

“Pardon?” Michael said, looking up. At their shaken heads and exchanged glances, the man continued, remarking, “Regardless, it seems here to say the sword was found – begged, rather, from the hands of the Lady of the Lake – and taken to the site of the battle in…” he paused, squinting at the word. “I’ll need a map for this,” he muttered, leaning over to the pile of books next to him on the table.

“You let people move my sword?” Arthur hissed at Merlin as Michael distracted himself.

“You should be glad I didn’t let them move you,” he whispered back.

“Gentlemen,” Michael interrupted, one finger fixed on the page of a book over a map, “If you’re ready.”

Merlin nodded and leaned over the table to examine the map. “Ireland?” he asked, glancing up at Michael.

The man looked between the manuscript and the map and answered, “I’m fairly confident. Seems the sword was taken from here to Ireland for use in a fight against an immortal enemy and was never returned.”

Arthur drew in a sharp breath, but Merlin quieted him with a touch to his arm. “Thank you, Michael,” he said quietly, “You’ll email me any further details?”

Michael hummed in reply, already bending back over the document to peer at it again.

 


	5. Scene V

Arthur spoke up when Merlin lead them off the path – pavement, Merlin had informed him – and past a set of trees. The sounds of the road were fading in his ears as he asked, “So the sword is close? In this Ireland place?”

Merlin glanced from side to side at the trees around them, then started heading North. Arthur followed him for a few steps, listening to Merlin humming something under his breath and asked again, “Merlin? Ireland?”

His steps faltered for a moment and then Merlin called over his shoulder, “Innisfal – had you ever heard of it?”

He stepped over a fallen branch and skirted around a bush before replying, “Some traders came from there once when I was young. My father would have liked to send a campaign there – when he thought me ready to lead –” He cut himself off, blinking at the sun-dappled ground.

“But you became king,” Merlin finished for him, coming to a stop in a clearing, “And by then, peace in the Five Kingdoms was more important.”

Arthur smiled, though it was more of a grimace, and remarked, “I would have rather peace without war, but I always wondered if such a thing was possible.”

Shrugging at him, Merlin replied, “There’ve been some who have managed it, but it rarely ever lasts for long. Gwen was able to for a while.”

Arthur said softly, “I knew she would,” and they exchanged a brief smile. “Now,” he added, turning to look around the clearing, “Are we waiting here for something, or are we just lost? I know, at least, Innisfal is across a sea.”

He watched Merlin take a deep breath and then say, “It would take quite a bit of time to go that way. And I don’t want to try taking you anywhere without a passport like that.” He caught Arthur’s eyes and offered, almost shyly, “I thought we could use magic to get there instead.”

Arthur looked around again and then laughed, “Magic? And do what, fly there?”

Lips quirking up in a smile, Merlin replied, “Not quite.” He stepped forward to the left a bit, then back to the right before settling and looking at Arthur again. “There’s a way to step places without passing over the land. Anhora taught me – do you remember him? With the unicorn?”

“The bloody unicorn,” Arthur growled, “I remember. So that’s how he was sneaking around, was it?” He cleared his throat and added, “So you can do that then?” with a little shrug, asked, “Safely and in one piece and all?”

Merlin opened his mouth, paused, closed it and shrugged slightly in return. “I’ve never done it to reach somewhere outside of Albion, but yes, I can.”

“Well, go ahead then,” Arthur replied, clenching one first at his side as he gestured with his hand, “Let’s see if you’ve finally made yourself useful.”

Merlin huffed out a breath at him, but closed his eyes all the same. He stretched out his hands and muttered something under his breath Arthur missed, though he did catch the flash of gold under Merlin’s eyelids.

The air before him darkened, seeming to mist over with black until it looked similar to the portal Lancelot had once stepped through. Arthur circled it cautiously, one hand rising to where his blade normally rested on his hip, until he was standing next to Merlin.

Merlin tossed him a small smile, though Arthur could see the wariness in his eyes – the same wariness he had borne those last few days they had spent together so long ago – so he returned the smile. Merlin said quickly, glancing towards the darkness, “We’ll be walking through something like a part of Avalon, though we won’t be able to see anything clearly. Stay close to me, and don’t let yourself be lead away.”

Grinning at him, Arthur took a step towards the portal, remarking, “Finally getting exciting around here.” He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Don’t be such a coward, Merlin. You don’t need me to hold your hand, do you?”

And Merlin, who had been born to meet Arthur, who had spent nearly ten years preserving his life, who had waited centuries clinging to a fading memory of the man, who had only ever lived in a land that had known Arthur’s touch, that had drank up his blood, that had swallowed up the echoes of his voice, that had been marked by the tread of his feet, looked at the portal while he forced a swallow down his suddenly-tight throat. Each forest was filled with the memory of Arthur’s careful steps during a hunt, each stream drowning in the sight of Arthur’s hands dipping in for a cool drink, each field seeped in the memory of Arthur running his fingers over grain and smiling at his people, and each lake was a sinking pit in his stomach that he turned away from every time. And Merlin, who had not left the land of Albion since Arthur had, who had never stepped on ground that Arthur had not tread on, looked down at the boundary to the portal while he grit his teeth.

His eyes caught on Arthur’s boots, a few steps away from him, and he nodded slightly to himself – because even now, he would be following in Arthur’s footsteps, still walking where he before had trod – and he stepped forward as well. “Right,” he said to Arthur while lifting his eyes from the ground, “Just don’t –”

But Arthur was gone already, slipping through the portal as Merlin approached it, so he quickly followed after him.

And they did end up holding hands – or at least gripping forearms – because it was very dark and the whispers of cruel creatures filled their ears and neither of them wanted to chance Arthur being trapped in Avalon again. Not so soon.

 

 

And they stepped out to bright sunlight and a crisp wind, Arthur glancing back over his shoulder warily at the closing portal. “It wasn’t like that when I was there,” he said as he turned back to Merlin. He blinked and added, “Does that dark thing always show up – I don’t remember the old man ever having that.”

Merlin smiled sheepishly and admitted, “That was more for your benefit. It’s a bit unnerving to step right into nothing.”

They both shuddered slightly and Arthur turned around to scan their surroundings. “This is Innisfal?”

Glancing out over the hilltop, Merlin nodded when he caught sight of the stone just off to their left. He jerked his chin towards it and said, “Michael’s email said the sword will probably be directly under that.”

Walking towards it, Arthur inspected it suspiciously as he asked, “Inside it, like before?” He stepped on the base of the stone and the ground seemed to tremble under his feet as something rumbled in the distance.

Stepping over after him, Merlin slowed to a stop next to Arthur, who glanced at him and then back down at the ground with a worried grimace. The rumbling quieted when Merlin placed his foot on the same stone and he replied slowly, “No, I don’t think so.”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes at Arthur’s back as the man put his foot slowly and cautiously on the first step. He pulled a torch from his back and waved it at his head, “Wouldn’t some light help?”

“Oh,” Arthur said slowly, as he turned back, pulling his foot up and planting it firmly on the ground. “I forgot you could do some magic thing like that.”

Smiling at him, he brandished the torch and replied, “I could but you can have this too.” He clicked it on, flashing Arthur in the face briefly before directing the light down the narrow stars.

Arthur blinked away the spots from his eyes, gaze fixed on the object in Merlin’s grasp. “That’s a magic thing?”

“It’s a science thing,” he answered, holding it out to the man.

Arthur burst out laughing instead of reaching out. “Now you’ve finally learned how to tell a decent joke. How can something like those books on bodies and planets or Gaius’ little attempt to turn lead to gold make light from a stick?”

Now, Merlin was the one blinking, and he quickly protested, “Not that kind of science. It’s about the batteries – they store energy and power the filament, I think and – “ he cut off when he saw Arthur still grinning at him and he sighed. “Yes, it’s magic, but magic you can use.” Arthur wrinkled his nose when Merlin extended it again and he huffed out, “Fine, I’ll just go first then.”

As he put his foot down on the first stair, Arthur grabbed his shoulder. “Wait,” he tugged the torch from his hand, “Wouldn’t want you falling to your death – we both know how clumsy you are.” He easily slid past Merlin and started down, pointing the light directly at his feet as he went.

Merlin shook his head and smiled, then raised his palm and muttered, “…” He sent the ball of light down to float near the ceiling of the passage, and Arthur glanced up as it passed his shoulder.

He looked back at Merlin for a moment and muttered softly under his breath, “Oh, so that was it.” He turned back before Merlin could reply, and Merlin had to hurry to keep up with him.

 


	6. VI

“Merlin, you kick my heel one more time and I’ll throw you down these stairs.”

Light bobbed around them, reflecting off the rock walls faintly as Arthur’s torch jumped with each step.

“Well, maybe if you would move quickly instead of acting all paranoid, I wouldn’t,” Merlin hissed back.

“I remember the last time I was in a magic staircase – there were darts and cockroaches in walls and – what was that?” Arthur paused again and peered down at the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

Merlin pushed past him to step down off the stairs, calling back firmly over his shoulder, “It’s nothing, Arthur – this is an abandoned empty cave under a –“

He was cut off by a low growl behind before him and Arthur grabbed his shoulder with a shouted, “Merlin!”

Arthur tugged him back out of the way as claws swept through the air where he had been standing, the form of a hissing wyvern appearing from out of the darkness after them.

Standing before Merlin, Arthur reached for his waist, cursing when his hand closed on empty air. The wyvern rushed towards him and he swung the torch with both hands gripping tight and gritting his teeth as he struck the creature hard across the head.

It fell off to the side, but another was quickly running from out of the dark as well. He felt a hand gripping his arm and then Merlin was stepping up to his side. He began to speak, and the wyverns slowed to a stop and cowered before him. “___” Merlin shouted and the creatures both hissed and began to slink away to the left.

Arthur watched them go, cautiously shining the light after them, but the tunnel turned there and the light merely shone back off the wall. He turned slowly to Merlin, who smiled at him sheepishly, “So it wasn’t a dream then, with the dragon.”

Merlin stared at him and, as Arthur turned away, blurted out, “Wait, what?”

“Come on, Merlin, there might be more of those things lurking around,” he called back as he stepped forward, swinging the torch from side to side as if it were aflame.

Merlin glanced at the walls and spotted a sconce for a flame. Cautiously, he spelled it alight, smiling when nothing besides flame emerged, then did the same for all the rest on the walls.

Arthur jumped up ahead and glanced over his shoulder at Merlin. When their eyes caught, he offered a smile that Merlin returned.

 

But, they did not encounter any more wyvern, or any traps, or anything at really throughout the system of tunnels.

The worst they faced was when Merlin stopped to tie his shoelaces and Arthur ended up lost down a tunnel – “I wasn’t lost, you were lost and I found you” – for a few moments until Merlin tripped over a rock and fell with so much noise Arthur managed to find his way back.

“I was expecting more excitement,” Arthur finally commented as they started down another branch of the tunnel.

Merlin shrugged at him, replying, “Whoever left those wyvern here probably figured no one could get past them.”

Arthur grumbled out his agreement and then stopped as they stepped through a hole curved into a rock wall. He gave Merlin a quick shove back, snapping, “Stand in that entrance.”

Frowning as he skidded back a few steps, Merlin snapped back, “What for?”

Arthur turned from where he had been scanning the chamber, objects flicking over the piles of items within, and replied, “Because if the boulder,” he pointed at the large rock next to the entryway, “starts to roll closed, we both can’t be trapped in here.”

“I could be squashed right here.”

Arthur grinned at him, sharp and bright, “Then it’ll be time to use that magic of yours. And with no need to knock me out first to do it.”

Merlin crossed his arms with a disgruntled nod and watched as Arthur carefully stepped around the chamber – sending his light to float near the center of the ceiling.

He inspected the piled armor and swords, occasionally poking a piece or two with the torch. He skirted widely around the tomb in the center and briefly tried the lids of a few chests.

Arthur had stepped out of sight of the entryway when he cried out and Merlin went running towards the back of the chamber. He ignored the sound of grinding stone behind him and skidded around the tomb to find Arthur standing before a pedestal towards the rear of the room.

The man turned to him as there was a solid thump of the rock sealing the entrance and gave Merlin an exasperated look, exclaiming, “One thing, Merlin, I ask you to do one thing.”

Merlin replied, “Well, I – you shouted.” He swallowed, shrugging, “I’d rather be trapped in here with you than outside not knowing if you’re okay.”

Arthur glared at him again, bringing up a hard to clap against the back of Merlin’s head, though the strike was far less hard than Merlin knew he could deliver.

And as Arthur turned back away, Merlin’s hand drifted up as if to catch the back of his sleeve. Because all he could see every time he blinked was the cascade of rocks that had trapped him in the Cave so long ago with no hope of exit and no way to reach Arthur. He glanced back over his shoulder at the sealed entrance and thought that this time he was on the right side of it, even if Arthur thought elsewise.

Merlin turned when Arthur let out a little whoop, finding the man folding back the red cloth that lay over the top of the surface. He saw a flash of gold and realized with a  start that Arthur was holding one of the Pendragon capes, and as Arthur lifted it further – so Merlin too could see the gold-embellished sword and chainmail that lay beneath – he took a sharp breath because that was Arthur’s cape, Arthur’s cape that still had mud at the hem and blood along the side and that Merlin had last touched when he lay Arthur down to say what he had hoped would not be a last goodbye.

But it had turned out not to be, and he smiled as he heard Arthur mutter, “Wait, this is mine, and so are these. Why did she give them my clothes?”

He stepped forward, butting Arthur’s shoulder with his own, and asked, “So you were running around Avalon naked then? No wonder that’s how you showed up.”

Arthur bumped him back, sending him reeling to the side, and replied as he lifted Excalibur, “I don’t think I would have even noticed if I was.”

He help Excalibur aloft and a light from above seemed to shine down on him, making his hair glint as gold as the filigree on the blade. “Merlin,” he said, throwing a glance at him and then rolling his eyes upwards.

“Oh,” he replied, weakly, “right, sorry,” and he waved his light back away some so the area dimmed back to acceptable levels.

Arthur looked back at his sword, then swung it down with a twist of his shoulder and began circling his wrist to rotate it through the air. He smiled after a moment, slowing the movements, and commented, “Just as perfect as it ever was.” He approached the pedestal again and Merlin glanced over the room as he went, a small frown coming over his face as he realized very few of the things in the room were from the same time period – a suit of armor was displayed next to a simple leather jerkin, a crossbow next to a quiver and long bow. As he focused on these, he swallowed as he felt the thrum of magic in the room, seeping from all the artifacts though pooling most noticeably from the locked chests.

Just as he lifted his foot to approach them, Arthur said from behind him, almost haltingly, “What are the chances it’ll still fit me after a thousand years with no morning training?”

Merlin turned to see him gesturing at his arm and chainmail, piled under his cape, and quickly answered, “If you could squeeze into it them before, I’m sure you can do it again.” Smiling sweetly, he added, “And, of course, Sire, I can adjust your belt again if you need it.”

Said belt flew at his face so he quickly dodged and headed toward the entrance, calling back, “I’ll just get this out of the way while you do that.”

None of the spells he tried worked, however, and even trying to manually move the stone had no effect either. He plodded back over to Arthur’s side with his head downturned sheepishly. Merlin lifted his eyes and caught sight of Arthur, who was twisting slightly and clasp his cape to his shoulders while trying to hold it up off the ground.

“Allow me, sire,” he said, stepping up behind him and catching up the fabric. He was slow in latching on his cape, trying to remember the last time he had done this, remembering the time he should have been there to do this and he was not.

And just as his fingers started to shake with the memories, Arthur’s hand came down on Merlin’s, pinning it to his shoulder, and he replied softly, “Thank you, old friend.”

He turned, one hand resting on the hilt of Excalibur and the other arm resting loosely at his side. “Well?” he asked, grinning at Merlin.

“Almost good as old,” Merlin replied, with a smile. He reached for the gold circlet that had been hidden under all the rest on the pedestal – one that looked similar but he had never seen Arthur wear before – and shivered at the thrum of Sidhe magic through his fingers. He placed it gently on Arthur’s brow. Stepping back, he locked eyes with Arthur and said solemnly, like a promise, “Long live the King.”

 

And when the circlet was resting on his brow and Merlin’s words were echoing softly in the chamber, there was a shudder in the ground beneath them and Merlin and Arthur turned to see the stone rolling back away from the entryway.

Arthur glanced at Merlin and he raised his hands innocently, then said softly, “The Once and Future King has returned. And magic welcomes him back.”

“And you?”

“And I welcome you back,” he replied, gripping tight the wrist of the hand resting on Excalibur’s hilt.

“Are you sure you’re real?” Merlin asked a moment later, when his hand dropped away with tingling fingers, when the circlet settled on Arthur’s forehead, when he seemed to shine in the dim room, when he drew Excalibur again and examined the blade.

Arthur paused, carefully sheathing the sword and turning slowly to face Merlin. His eyes searched Merlin’s face for a long moment. He reached out, catching Merlin’s wrist up in a tight grip and squeezing when Merlin gripped back. “If I were a dream,” he said slowly, “Would I do this?”

And with that, he tugged Merlin hard into a headlock, scruffing at his hair with a rough hand. Merlin yelped at the touch of chainmail on his cheek and tried to squirm out from Arthur’s hold, smiling to himself at the sound of Arthur’s laughter surrounding him.

 


	7. VII

But Arthur seemed wary of the place then, even as he changed his clothes back, even as they walked through the tunnels, even as they spotted the foot of the stairs. He seemed wary until the wyverns burst back out of the dark – one knocking Merlin to the wall to knock the breath from his lungs before he could speak – and Arthur drew his sword and swung with all the eagerness of a warrior who had been waiting centuries for steel to taste blood again, but too with all the battle sense of a man who had faced death – and fallen to it – before.

And he dispatched the creatures quickly, Excalibur almost singing in the air as he maneuvered it, and when he turned to Merlin to offer him a hand, he was laughing under his breath with a smile on his face. When he pulled Merlin up, Merlin’s sight blurred for a moment and he saw Arthur as he had been, crowned and clad in shining metal, and the man said with a wide grin, “I am back, aren’t I?”

 

“Merlin,” Arthur said slowly, glancing from side to side as subtly as he could manage, “I took off the armor, as you demanded down in that cave, but people are still staring,” with a smug grin, he added, “Do I have a bit of the royal aura still with me?”

“No,” Merlin replied, glancing at Arthur, “I don’t think that’s it – might be the fat head though.” He dodged a swat at his head and quickly said, “It’s probably because you’re wearing a great deal of leather and have a sword strapped to your back. Not exactly,” with a flap of his hand, “normal behavior nowadays.”

Merlin started walking again, then paused mid-step and called back over his shoulder, “But it really could just be the fat head!”

 

 

When he arrived, he forced the stairway open with a wave of a hand as he walked over the stones that refused to thrum for him, though someday he would cause all the world to tremble at his feet. He raised a hand cradling an orb of light and stepped down the stairs quickly.

Clicking his tongue against his teeth when he reached the bottom, he glanced around in boredom as he waited for the creatures to emerge. Looking down, he noticed his boot was resting in a puddle of something dark and wet, and he followed the flow back, rising his hand further as he stepped.

And he stopped to find the wyvern laying slaughtered near the labyrinth entrance. He grit his teeth as he glanced around for another body, but all he found were two sets of footprints leading into the tunnels, and back away towards the stairs.

His light crashed against the wall to shatter and disappear as he strode, eyes flashing red, towards the chamber.

Not before long, there was a shout of rage echoing through the tunnels as he found his treasure disturbed and stolen away.

 


End file.
